


Black & White

by CanidSerpent



Series: CanidSerpent's Reader-Inserts [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 10:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1775278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanidSerpent/pseuds/CanidSerpent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been said that the purest and gentlest of souls are among the easiest to corrupt. No wonder then that the consulting criminal would take such an interest in you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black & White

The day you had first met Richard Brook had not been a strange one. You had gone to the park as per usual while your flatmate was at her work. It wasn't a terribly crowded place; often, you could find an isolated spot beneath an old oak tree that provided you with a gracious view of the small lake in the center. It was here you would often do the brute of your work, the sounds of songbirds' melodies, yapping dogs, and the playful cries of young children pleasant towards your ears.  
  
Unbeknownst to you, he had seen you many a time before. He had found you an interesting creature to observe. He could sense that though you considered yourself no different than the multitude of other people around you, you were. You were not privy to the same false priorities that others were, and you were not as selfish or boastful as others.  
  
He thought you would make a _wonderful_ playmate for him. With all your tenerity and sense of goodwill, such a contrast to his own amorality and discontent with the society at large.  
  
It would be a fun endeavor to draw you out of your tight shell with his natural charisma, and flaunt you like the tiny jewel you were. He rather looked forward to it, a giddy sense of childish glee pulsating in his heart at the thought.  
  
He approached you then, late in the November evening whence you were just about done for the day. Standing beside you as you packed away canvas after canvas, tubes of acrylic paints after filthy and multicolored brushes. Content to watch you as he stood swathed in only a loose coat and old blue jeans worn from years of use.  
  
Once you did notice him, he smiled towards you with a mischievous glint in his dark eyes. You did not notice, not because you were oblivious, but because you had been caught off guard by the tall and suave-looking man's presence. It was as if his mere being there commanded your attention, and you could not look towards anything else for a fear welling up in the pits of your stomach told you that he would brutally punish you if you did not. A feeling of nervousness began to overtake you, causing your body to shiver in the frigid air from beneath the tightly woven scarf you wore clasped around your neck. Your shivering pleased him greatly, as his smile widened even further; for he knew once he did wrap you in his unrelinquishing coils, you would make a splendid pet.  
  
"Good evening, my Kitten, are you doing well tonight?" He inquired, his voice smooth as he glided his tongue over each and every word, his peculiar accent ringing through the silence of the gradually growing darkness of the coming nightfall.  
  
You were silent for a moment, still trying to wrap your mind around why this man had suddenly approached you. In the end, you only nodded, afraid to speak lest he laugh at you once he heard how utterly difficult it was for you state a simple word without letting your tongue slip and your words stumble over one another as you spoke.  
  
"Good!" He smiled again, briefly this time. "I'm Richard Brook," He stuck out a hand to meet one of yours, and you took it hesitantly, your hand so much tinier than his.    
  
"I'll be seeing you soon, Miss ______."  
  
Before you could respond to inquire as to how he knew your name, he had already slunk off into the depths of the incoming darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> This about two years old now, I think. My very first reader-insert, which I'm not entirely proud of, but people seem to enjoy it nonetheless.


End file.
